


Everything's Wireless in the City

by EddyAPogue



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Scott Lang, BAMF Tony Stark, M/M, Multi, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5262911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EddyAPogue/pseuds/EddyAPogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves to think his life's an inspiration... something worthy of a musical at least - where the main protagonist's an excellent barber making an honest living in his little shop in Alphabet City (except in this musical, there's a lot of heavy riffs and drum solos rather than the usual happy little tune and snazzy dance moves). Too bad his reality's more like: "discover your identity is a lie; get kidnapped and thought of as dead then hide the fact that you're alive but get discovered anyway because there are spies <span class="u">EVERYWHERE</span>."</p><p>Oh, and he's supposed to factor in teammates and saving the world from some unseen evil like those bad plots from cheesy movies. Great.</p><p>Good thing Tony Stark's pretty much good in Maths.</p><p>...not with feelings though. Definitely not...for that he's a lost cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ripple

“Well? How do you like it?” chocolate brown eyes curiously peered at his client’s reflection – standing restlessly from behind as his hands kept busy brushing off hair from broad shoulders. Despite the nervous energy that the barber somehow exuded (which may or may not lead to the ‘occasional’ never-ending stream of words), he patiently waited for a response while the man before him inspected his haircut.

“Gee, Tones. I think this sexy crew cut might just get me a promotion.” Colonel James Rhodes gave his best friend the most shit-eating grin he could muster followed entirely by a saucy wink that led to the brunette being addressed to let out the most exaggerated retching sounds in return. “Real mature there, Tones. Fuck you very much, really. You know how much you’re dying to have a **_whole_** lot of this chocolate goodness.”  With laughter in his voice - the soldier waggled his eyebrows meaningfully while he gestured at himself, barely managing to avoid getting hit directly as Tony threw a warm towel on his face.

“Thank God you’ve long disabused me of that notion, my ugly stud-muffin.” Tony shot back with a grin of his own as he began kneading onto the tight knot of muscles on his friend’s back, effectively disrupting whatever wiseass comment he was about to receive by pressing hard on a pressure point at the junction of the neck causing the man to groan. “By the way this’ll cause you an extra fifty, Rhodes.” He teased, all smug smiles before promptly barking out in laughter as he was met by a proudly raised middle finger in the air.

“What?” Tony looked at his friend quizzically, eyes squinted to make the perfect impression of a clueless guy - a deliberate attempt at being obtuse. “Want me to put a ring on it, soldier?” Mischief mixed with fond amusement crossed Tony’s features as he gazed at the colonel - the man in question meeting Tony’s eyes from their reflection in the mirror, the very same sentiment evident in his eyes, before finally answering with: “You’re an asshole, Stark.” 

Never the one to pass up on a chance to have the last word Tony called out sweetly, “Takes one to know one, pumpkin!”, before he slowly walked towards the glass door hips swaying in a gait that’s just about oozing with arrogance to adjust the position of the slightly lopsided shop sign. “Now, if I remember correctly Rhodey - and I’ll have to pause right here to remind you that I’m a genius and my memory is practically flawless…” He couldn’t resist giving Rhodey a pointed look before he continued. “I was promised to be nurtured and cared for like I’m a damn delicate flower in need of some serious TLC while your ass is back in NYC so… don’t you have to get back into that kitchen to make me a sandwich?”

“Son of a-! “  

“How bad is it?” Colonel Nicholas J. Fury’s grim tone filled the secured phone line right as Agent Phillip Coulson directed the swarm of suited men to assist the harried looking scientists in carrying what seemed to be their most important work outside of the research facility. His team came in at just the right time to assess the situation and with any luck they’ll all be able to get out of New Mexico unscathed and hopefully in time for Supernanny re-runs.

Any deliberation on Phil’s part at this point was certain to give the Director just about the right excuse to jump into the nearest helicopter to take care of ‘ _this fucking mess_ ’ and so he was careful to show none of the agitation he was feeling lest it bleeds through the phone conversation - his tone leveled and face schooled into an expressionless mask when he answered his superior, “Energy levels are climbing and unstable, sir and we’re still attempting to figure out what turned it on. We couldn’t risk it when Selvig couldn’t shut it down so we ordered evac.”

One eye narrowed critically at the folder Agent Hill had handed to him – an official looking stamp marking the document as highly classified, before S.H.I.E.L.D’s fearsome leader responded to Coulson’s statement. “How long to get everyone out?”

Phil’s answer was precise, “Campus should be clear in less than an hour.” Ever efficient - as expected of one of Fury’s most trusted. “Phase 2 prototypes have been loaded and shipped out as well.” The agent reported as he began to head down to the Radiation Facility floor.

Nick’s thoughtful hum from the other side of the line was the closest to approval Phil could ever get in this circumstance and quite frankly, he’s quite fortunate that the only parting words he got from the Director were: “I expect to be updated on any and all findings made by the good doctor.”, which definitely meant that he’d done a good thing in anticipating what his boss needed to be done.

It seems that the years he’d spent working for the Director were finally paying off and _by God, he’s getting too old for this_.

Phil sees Dr. Selvig emerging from behind the CMS just as he opened the doors of the chamber. Erik spared him a very brief glance before continuing to frantically get readings from the machine. There were some frustrated grunts and a shrill whistle of something from the contraption right before the scientist called out loudly after a while, “It’s still misbehaving!”

Tilting his head inquisitively, Phil’s eyes swept the chamber in an attempt to locate the operative he’d sent down to keep a sharp eye on things in the facility. “Is there a way to shut it down?” Agent Coulson asked the scientist cautiously as the man continued to check on his calculations while simultaneously discussing his findings with another NASA scientist.

“No use, agent. It just turns itself back on. The Tesseract’s an energy source and if it reaches peak level…” Erik’s face was grim as he directed his gaze at the eerie blue glow of the cube.

“Dr. Selvig, I have it on good authority that we’ve done enough preparations for harnessing energy from space.”

The scientist’s face was kind and sympathetic as he replied, “I’m afraid that the ‘ _preparations_ ’ as you say, are incomplete. We don’t have the harness and right now it’s having an epic tantrum throwing off interference radiation here and there – no, don’t look so alarmed… it’s nothing harmful, just some low levels of gamma radiation.” Erik’s hand was held up as he tried to reassure Phil, an act done in vain as it did nothing to assuage his sudden apprehension at the idea of being fully exposed to a volatile element that might just cause his early demise.

“That can pose some problems, doctor.” Phil cleared his throat, “My apologies but I’d have to digress, have you seen Agent Barton?”

From behind Phil, a soft ‘thud’ announced the arrival of Clint Barton and Erik gestured to him with an upturned palm. “There’s your Hawk.”

“Ah, finally. Thank you Dr. Selvig.” Phil nodded courteously at Erik, who was almost immediately approached by one of the scientists. “Seen anything that could’ve set this thing off, Agent?”

“It’s clean. No one’s come into contact and security’s tight – the same people to come in and go. If there’s been any tampering it’s not from this end.”

Phil frowned in contemplation, “This end? That certainly doesn’t bode well.” he murmured, glancing back to where the scientists were converging around Dr. Selvig.

“Doors open from both sides, don’t they?” Clint shrugged, a tight humorless smile in place just as the chamber’s lights flickered. The scientists looked at each other in confusion, whereas Clint and Phil shared a look of understanding between them.

“Round them all up Hawkeye.”

“I’ll see you at the rendezvous point then. Don’t get blown up, Phil.”

“Take care, Clint.”

* * *

**_=C:\G:\Flo >set x c:\program_GOT_ **

 

_…Running sequence_

 

_'T’was a night like before Christmas, except everyone at the Triskelion was abuzz. All the agents were stirring and in just a few moments several hands were on hubs – Nick’s men were creating a huge fuss.’_

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Everything was in absolute chaos at S.H.I.E.L.D – from the all too sudden ear-bursting loud blaring of the sound system; to the _honest to God_ seizure-inducing flashes of lights filling hallways in alternates of reds and oranges… and as if icing on a fucking cake, Nick had to tend to the various agents calling out to him in alarm all at the same time reporting the very same thing: _a breach in their system_. 

A breach. In their god _damn_ **security** system.

 

_‘S.H.I.E.L.D’s metaphorical stockings will soon be filled with delightful surprises they’ve had in store… shiny things that Dear ol’ Nick will surely cry or die for (though in reality he’ll probably abhor).’_

“I want this contained!” Nick hollered out at his men, a vein throbbing visibly on his temple in extreme annoyance. “Find the fuck out who’s stupid enough to hack our systems and make them wish they’ve never been born!”

“Sir, there’s an incoming call from Agent Barton.”

“-started accessing the private servers!”

“Sir-“

“…folders are being erased as we speak! We’re attempting at recovering…”

 

 _‘And he whistled, and he giggled, and he called out in glee: “To the window, to the wall… ‘til the sweat drops down my balls, ‘til these bitches deck these halls!” – indeed, the wonders and joys of a hacking spree.’_  

And as sudden as the attack, everything came to a stop – the alarms have stopped ringing, the lights stopped flashing and all computer screens blacked out. 

“Sir.” Agent Hill stopped right in front of Nick, effectively blocking his view and getting his attention as she handed him a communicator. “Agent Barton’s on the line.”

“This better be good news, Barton.” He grit out, eye twitching dangerously as he waited for the operative to report.

There was a pregnant pause before Clint’s hoarse voice filled the line, “Coulson’s been compromised.”

 

“Love the improv on those lyrics, Scotty.” Tony clapped his co-worker on the back jovially, before handing him a can of cold beer and sitting on a nearby chair.

“It’s nearly Christmastime, thought they could use a little cheer since Starbuck’s just became the Grinch with those cups.” Scott gave him a cocky smirk before bursting into laughter. “Guess who’s the best employee ever?” He asked playfully - his tone lilting in a sing-song manner as fingers wriggled enthusiastically at the computer screen.

“Seeing as Peter only volunteers from time to time, and Jenny’s recently focused on law school – you’re my only fulltime employee Scott.” Tony replied dryly before turning to scan the screen. “So what’s - oh, wow… color me impressed, Lang” Tony whistled lowly in obvious appreciation of Scott’s skill. “If not for the fact that you already have a brilliant offspring of your own – she’s a whole lot of awesome by the way, I’ll be offering you the firstborn child of my loins.”

“Cassie mentioned Uncle Tony promising her those Funko Hipster Princess things. Kids these days are weird.” At this Scott raised his fist and offered it to Tony which he readily returned – Fist Bumps: the worldwide symbol for acknowledging the badassery of one’s brother from another mother. “Also, no. I didn’t need that horrific mental image before I sleep. I just did you a favor, Stark.”

Tony laughingly gave him air-kisses before turning his attention to the screen. “I’m getting her the whole set. Belle’s got that, ‘ _You can’t sit with us_ ’ vibe going on…bet Cass will find it hilarious.”

“Stop turning her into your mini-me!”

“Oh please. I can’t be Dr. Evil. I’m **_way_** too sexy and I at least deserve an Elizabeth Hurley of my own.”

“I’m not being paid enough for this.” Scott muttered under his breath, the satisfying hiss of the beer foam fizzling filled the air as he cracked the can open.

“My secret stash of Jalapeño Cheetos would beg to differ.” Tony shot back as he tapped on commands and browsed through S.H.I.E.L.D’s confidential files.

“What? It makes great drunk food! And can I just take this time to point out that under the couch is not considered the best hiding place ever considering I sleep there?!”

“Huh. This is interesting.”

“What is?”

“Fury’s collectibles apparently –“

“Superhero boyband sounds better.”

Tony snorted.

“Seems your brother outdid himself though.”

“There’s a reason why he’s the favorite.”

“Well they do say blondes have more fun and all that shit.”

Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Scott’s apparent amusement. “He’s as fun as a pet rock.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“If that weapons cache from New Mexico’s got some of mine then you know the drill.”

“Take what is mine, with fire and blood. Got it.”

“You really need to cut back on your Game of Thrones addiction.”

“Whatever you say, Iron Man.” Scott replied with a small secretive smile and discreetly slipped a folded sheet of paper under Tony’s elbow.

It took Tony an hour to notice it, as engrossed as he was with the information he was sorting through – Scott long since gone up to watch another episode. He stared at the picture wordlessly before cracking up in laughter. “Fucking Iron Man.” He muttered under his breath, before returning to the task at hand.


	2. Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have waited (I know it's been a long while), thank you so much for being so patient. For the kind ones who have left kudos and comments, let me express my wholehearted gratitude as well. You guys are the sweetest and I shall do my best not to let you down. Happy holidays to all of you and and as always, comments are most definitely appreciated!

_Tony was on his third can of cheap beer when the sudden sound of footsteps walking along the deserted hallways of MIT startled him, making him stiffen as it was followed by an amused: “This is a new kind of low for you, you know Stark.” Even completely smashed off his tits and standing in the middle of the laboratory he’d not so hostilely taken over in his alma mater late into the night, Tony could still – and without any doubt, recognize that voice. “I mean really boss, pretending to be dead? That’s a total dick move and even if admittedly I’m happy you’re back to being an all-around dickwad, I’m so thinking you need a punch in the face pronto.” There’s undeniably a well-hidden hint or an undertone of some brotherly sort of affection in that particular admittance that made Tony proud, in that it proved that he did manage to make some good choices in who he chose to trust even before the whole she-bang in Afghanistan. In several sure steps, Scott Edward Harris Lang – Tony’s most trusted and foremost electronics expert back at Stark International, stepped into the scant light pouring from the nearby window and revealed himself to his former boss._

_“If that would tickle the cockles of your cold, unforgiving heart dumpling then why the hell not?” Tony flashed his friend a completely irreverent grin before turning his attention back to what he was working on, now and then hovering the light from his cellphone onto a notebook before turning back to look through the microscope. Scott stood there before him, content with just patiently observing until it proved effective in wearing Tony’s silence out. With a defeated sigh Tony met Scott’s curious gaze head on, “Look, I needed to stay dead… still do in fact. You’re the first person to know, if we’re going by technicalities - the whole thing had been planned from the start and now I don’t know who to trust, alright?” Tony’s irritable and slightly incomprehensible explanation earned him a raised brow._

_“Hold up. Let me see if I got that straight – you’re telling me that the whole kidnapping thing had been planned by you so that you can play dead?!” One moment he was standing more than an arm’s length away and the next, Scott was suddenly so much nearer - hands clasped tightly onto the collar of Tony’s shirt dragging the genius forward. At this angle, Tony could clearly see the vein throbbing on Scott’s temple as he gnashed his teeth together in anger. Which… Uh-oh. That wasn’t meant to happen. Tony really should stop trying to explain important things when he’s shitfaced. “No!” he backpedaled, trying to pacify Scott and organize his thoughts. “Okay, quick run through: The board wanted to kill me and I’m pretty sure that they’d have succeeded if not for the fact that they hired greedy bastards who wanted their own unique set of weapons. I barely escaped but you see, this idiot I met one time in MIT happened to be in the area and well, he got lucky.”_

_Scott stared long and hard at him before he finally let Tony go. “I’m sure there’s still a lot more to that story, Stark.” He remarked with an offhanded shrug. “But I have a feeling I won’t need to wait that long to hear it.” He smirked, swiping at Tony’s beer before taking a long satisfying swig and completely ignoring Tony’s withering glare. “_ _So, why did you even choose me of all people to trust with this secret? I mean, yeah it’s flattering that I got chosen over Pepper-“_

_Tony dramatically rolled his eyes at Scott. “Oh please, stop deluding yourself. Pepper will know eventually.”_

_“That’s why I’m asking!”_

_Tony stayed silent for a long time, staring at Scott with an incomprehensible look on his face before bending down to look through the microscope once again. “Because you know what it’s like to have nothing Scott. We’re the zeros - we’re the ones who’s got nothing else left to lose and we either give it our all or just let everybody else push us around. Since it’s pretty much obvious which one we’d choose from those two options, we put every damn thing into focus and come up with fucking brilliant solutions.” Tony’s voice was progressively getting louder as he rushed on to make his point, his hand white-knuckled and trembling as he clenched it into a tight fist where it was rested on the table._

_“Rousing speech.” Scott commented, whistling lowly as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “I mean, it’s not really necessary since you know I’ll always have your back.” He chuckled, reaching over to clap Tony on the back. “Though you could’ve worked on that metaphor, buddy. I’m a fucking winner.”_

_“Well, you obviously need someone to ground you Scotty.” The genius was now wearing a genuine smile on his face as he looked up. “As your fellow-zero, I have decided to take that responsibility.”_

_Scott snickered, “Speak for yourself, you dickwad.”_

 

 

The sound of flesh meeting leather repeatedly echoed in the silence of the small space - the rapid movements of the sole person left practicing late in the night having disturbed dust motes in the stale air resulting to tiny particles being seen floating throughout the thin lighting of the old gym. Most of the main lights had all long been turned off except for one that was flickering from time to time. Its dim flickering goes unnoticed though, as the lone soul continued to immerse himself deeply into his thoughts of remembrance and regrets… the lows more than the high points of his life.

 

_One, two…_

_Left, right, up…_

 

Even as he finally managed to somehow adjust, the changes that occurred to him still takes a bit of getting used to and he might as well never cease to be amazed at the difference between then and now: enhanced senses, healing, strength, endurance, agility and reflexes seemingly designed to be at the peak of human perfection – simply what most people back then (and surprisingly even now) would consider, a ‘ _god among men_ ’…and yet.

Steve couldn’t help resenting it.

Sure, there were a lot of things that he wished he could have done right before the plane crashed down…all the ‘what ifs’, the ‘should haves’ and the ‘could haves’ – that dance he promised Peggy being at the forefront of his mind. He could definitely remember the fleeting thought of wanting to _survive_ just as the icy waters flooded the whole cabin in seconds – the waters freezing him to his bones. Yes, _at the time_ he wanted to live.

The serum was a miracle in many ways, and it seemed that preserving his life in such impossibly harsh conditions was just one more trick hidden up in its little sleeve.

 

 ** _Yes_** , he wanted to live.

…what he didn’t want was to be the man in the wrong time, in the wrong place.

His right fist swung fast into the punching bag in a particularly vicious strike, the tough leather finally yielding before bursting at the seams until trickles of sand fell onto the floor. He probably should have been feeling guilty he’s been going through the bags faster and faster each day (decimating S.H.I.E.L.D’s training equipment and most likely putting a dent in their finances) but to be quite honest he’s just feeling quite vindicated after dealing with being lied to and finding out that he’d woken up sometime and someplace strange. Steve’s current reality was something that went far beyond his wildest dreams. Waking up disoriented, his body stiff from disuse - wondering if everything had been a bad dream only to find out a few moments later (right after he scared the living lights out of the medical staff) that he had slept for nearly a century suspended in ice practically in the middle of nowhere.

He’d gone and done the impossible: he went to the future.

It’s nothing he can’t handle… it’s all very well and good.

 

“Captain.”

 

…or, apparently not.

 

“Sir.” Steve nodded in acknowledgement just as Nick Fury came into view, a vaguely familiar face trailing him from behind. “It’s a little late for the usual check in, isn’t it?” he commented wryly, studiously ignoring the niggling feeling of recognizing the man from somewhere – from a S.H.I.E.L.D dossier perhaps?

Nick pinned him with his good eye before replying, “I should say so, but here we all are.” He shrugged, giving the gym a sweeping glance before settling to Steve once again. “Trouble sleeping, captain?”

“I’ve been asleep for seventy years, sir. Keeping awake s’a nice change of pace.” Steve huffs, unravelling the tape from his hands before giving Nick an expectant look - his head tilted discreetly to the side in the direction of Nick’s companion, which the director returned with a subtle smirk. “Agent Hill on vacation?” he asked, knowing full-well that it wasn’t true and how it would then likely prompt the other into introducing the mystery third man.

“Still working at the base, I’m afraid.” Fury then nodded towards the man walking up to his side. “Captain, I’d like you to meet Gregory Stark-“

Blue eyes widened a fraction. “Howard’s son.” A statement rather than a question - not that an introduction should have been necessary. Steve should have easily recognized him by what he now calls the ‘Signature Stark Style’: that all-too familiar self-assured stance bordering onto being abrasively arrogant, like he knew he was someone of importance and knew he deserved to be treated as such.

“Captain Rogers.” The blonde man greeted amiably, one hand already outstretched which Steve took without any preamble. The surprising warmth held behind those icy blue eyes was such an odd contrast to the impression Stark had initially given off that Steve could only shake the hand proffered absently. “It’s an honor to finally meet you. You’ve been a fixture in many of my dad’s stories over the years.” Stark had a disarming smile on his face appearing to be remembering a fond memory that he was now sharing a snippet off to Steve.

Steve was sure he’d been smiling along albeit a little bashfully at the fact that Howard thought him a friend enough to share his life story with his son… however judging by the all-too-understanding look and that sympathetic pat on the side of his arm that he got from Stark, the look on his face might have been a tad bit too pitiful. “Yeah… likewise Mr. Stark.” He replied lamely.

 “So…” he cleared his throat effectively dispelling the awkward silence that befell the three of them, before turning a curious gaze to the direction of the director. “What can I do for you fellas?”

Stark gave Fury a brief glance, as if asking for permission, before he handed Steve some classified looking documents. “We’re here with a mission…” he paused, probably trying to gauge Steve’s reaction. “-that is well, only if you wish to accept.”

Frowning, Steve traced the first picture with his fingers. “Hydra’s secret weapon.” He grimly stated, staring hard at the object that he’d supposedly buried in the ocean, before addressing Fury once again. “This your way to get me back in the world, Sir?”

“Trying to save it, more like.” Came Fury’s no-nonsense retort.

“Dad fished it out of the ocean when he was looking for you. I’ve come to the same conclusion as he, that the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy - that’s something that the world could certainly use being that it’s sorely a necessity at this point.” Stark attempted to explain, though Steve couldn’t help but think that the man has conveniently left out the part where Howard’s company – no, it belongs to the younger Stark now, Stark International would benefit from integrating said energy to power up weapons of mass destruction.

“It’s been taken.” The director stated - always on point. That one.

“By whom?”

“Goes by the name of Loki. He’s not from around here –“

“Not even from the same planet or dimension.” Stark comments from the side, earning a stern glare from Fury to which the man responded with an indifferent shrug. “I had assumed he’d be able to read the details in the debriefing package, Nick. I don’t see how that would jeopardize anything since now he gets an idea of what we’re dealing with.” he pointed out – the sound reasoning not really doing anything to improve Fury’s temper.

“You’re telling me, we’re dealing with aliens.” Steve interjected with a skeptical look, gaining both men’s attention once again.

Stark gave him a wry smile. “The world has gotten even stranger than you already know, Captain.”

If that statement was meant to be daunting, it certainly failed. “With all due respect, Mr. Stark. I’ve seen a man ripping his own face during my time, I doubt anything would surprise me at this point.”

The man chuckled in response. “Would you like to wager on that, Captain?”

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.”

“You two done?” Fury barked out. “I can shoot you both for free. Now,” he turned his gaze to Steve. “Rogers, there’s a debriefing package waiting for you back in your apartment. Anything you think we should still know about the Tesseract?”

Steve shook his head slowly before picking up a punching bag and slowly walking away. “You really should have left it in the ocean.” He muttered under his breath. 

 

“Just so you know… hauling this babe over for a super duper top secret mission so just screams ‘I’m totally inept at covert operations’, Tony.” Scott revved up the car’s engine, delighting at the smooth purr that it gave off as he sped on through the night. He’s just passed through the last town meaning it would take some time before he’d get to sleep on a decent bed or have some of those greasy diner food (which he absolutely loved) and once again he’d be facing the seemingly endless road surrounded by desert sands – the only company if he’s really lucky, a few cacti and some wild dogs perhaps.

Those… and Tony, of course.

 _“Shut your dirty mouth Lang! That’s my ’67 Shelby Mustang GT-500 I’ve painstakingly restored and upgraded after some rich drunk idiot smashed it and left it after he lost his keys, you ungrateful heathen!”_ Tony’s voice crackled over the ~~knock-off 007 gadget~~ inconspicuous and yet-unnamed-watch-communicator (which Tony obviously created using either Kim Possible or Power Rangers as inspiration just so he could mock his friend’s tastes) that he’d armed Scott with when he left for New Mexico.

“Easy there, Q. I’m not dissing the sweet ride, I’m just saying there have been times when I reckoned I was just a punch away from getting this hottie stolen with the way people have been eye-fucking her the whole damn time.” Scott replied easily, checking his rearview mirror for other cars before driving the car off the road. “How’d you even get her out of the pound?”

A snort sounded off over the line before Tony replied with a, “ _It’s getting increasingly disturbing that you keep referring to King as a girl_.” Scott grinned widely at his friend’s response. He didn’t miss the teasing humor underneath Tony’s desert-dry remark, which meant that the genius wasn’t bothered at all despite his insistence. _“Wasn’t that hard, really. Did that thing with the Slim Jim, a screwdriver and a butterfly then smiled and waved like **THE** motherfucking queen at the shocked faces of those doubting doubters as I drove off. It was very good for my ego.”_

“As if it needs more stroking.” Scott muttered to which Tony responded with a squawk of indignation. “You call your car ‘King’ while you refer to yourself as a queen, can I expect a happy announcement by the end of the week? Cyborg babies by next year?” he snickered as Tony groaned, most likely gearing up to whine Scott’s ears off.

“ _Your daughter’s a menace! I mean yeah, sure whatever gets her interested in Star Wars can’t be all that bad but she’s been dragging me to watch disturbing amounts of Disney movies that she might just possibly be rubbing off on – oh, hold on. That’s the spot. Park right there, it’s got a good signal._ ” Scott could hear a soft hum coming from Tony’s computer drowned by the genius’ occasional mutterings as he parked his car at the spot Tony indicated. It was an elevated area overlooking the facility, a sound choice for surveillance but hell of a challenge for infiltration and escape plans. “ _You got the remote access tool with you?_ ”

Reaching over to unzip his backpack seated on the passenger side, Scott then took out a compact rectangular-shaped device and his laptop which he immediately switched on just as Tony began rambling once again. “ _So I met a really strange guy the other day._ ” Tony started, the same time the log-in screen appeared on Scott’s computer. “ _Blonde, blue-eyed, most likely spent way too much time in the gym judging by those perfect arms… or building barns since he just might possibly be Amish_ -“

“Tony-“

“ _I’m thinking hipster who swore off anything after the forties… but he was such a sweetheart! Like he was a natural at channeling Fred Astaire all dashing and debonair but with a body of a Greek God, seriously those arms-_ “

“Stark, really that’s fantastic. Truly. It’s so fascinating that I’d so love to discuss your apparent immense thirst for hipsters posing as lumberjacks, but I’d be happier to hear you out after we complete our… you know, **objective**.” There was a very audible put-upon sigh from the other end which drew a raised brow from Scott. “I mean c’mon man! I already miss my daughter… and that pack of Cheetos you hid under the sofa. Again.”

Tony made a fairly unattractive snort of laughter in response. “ _Not fair Lang… you know I can’t resist you when you’re all serious, it’s very sexy dear. Keep talking serious to – yep, got it! You’re all set to go, this will run interference frequencies and cover your precious ass while you run along and get me my presents._ ” Several screens seemed to pop out of nowhere, running programs and codes all at once at frankly inhuman speed. This was Tony in his element… and he wasn’t even using his AI at this point. Scott knew the genius was putting P.L.A.T.O on reserve just so when their escape needed a flashier bang, the AI would be on it and have their backs - trust Tony to actually pull off simultaneously being flashy and secretive without any obvious effort. The ass.

Standing outside the car with his pants already pooling at his feet (one benefit to Tony’s monologues: you can do other shit while he talks shit), Scott only needed to unzip his jacket to reveal the sleek, dark microfiber fabric bodysuit with enhanced tensile strength to withstand possible lethal projectiles shot from say… guns, and he’d be ready to scale some disabled electric fences. Plus points given to Tony for making him look awesome (doesn’t hurt that the guy made it a whole lot comfortable too). “All set and ready, just say the word boss. Do spare me from the cheesy lines, please?”

Scott could hear the smile on Tony’s face when he replied, “ _Fuck you very much, Lang. Just go_.” With a deep breath (and a few stretches of course), he began to cautiously head to the facility - confidence and nervousness warring within, as each step took him nearer to his destination. As creepy lairs go, Roxxon Oil’s research facility was the very embodiment of mediocre. Same whitewashed façade - clearly worn away through the passage of years, standard electric fences around the perimeter, men occasionally scouting for trespassers… pretty customary even for an organization embroiled in numerous controversies. Nothing new to bring to the table as far as aspiring villains bent on world domination would go. Slipping past these guys wouldn’t even make him sweat to be quite honest. “ _Get ready to attach the RAT. There’s an electrical box at the northwest side, about eighteen to twenty steps away from where you’re at… well, depends on how long your legs are really._ ”

“Let me reiterate: you suck at covert operations.” Scott admonished lightly, his voice toned down into a silent whisper as he deftly avoided the illuminated parts of the facility. “Tell me, does radio-silence mean anything at all to you?” Scott could practically see Tony rolling his eyes at the sudden pregnant pause that filled the line, as the genius finally took the hint. Craning his neck to check his surroundings and finding no immediate threat, the engineer picked the lock on the electrical box and opened it – revealing the familiar colored wires and connections that would serve as their conduit to the organization’s inner systems, no matter how heavily encrypted it may be. “We’re in.” Scott confirmed, eyeing the flickering green light from Tony’s device and furtively glancing around - hoping against hope that it works before anybody finds him in his vulnerable position crouched behind a wall. From time to time he can hear footsteps and faint voices walking closer to his spot but always at the very last moment it would stop and turn to a different direction.

“ _Eighty percent, Scotty. At my signal._ ” The genius advised, getting Scott to hang to his every word. “ _Reached the core, dearie… will be god modding this thing like there’s no tomorrow. Got the self-destruct codes as well so in case anybody gets an idea I can buy you some time. Go do your thing, my baby will take care of you._ ” From the background, Scott could faintly hear P.L.A.T.O reporting his progress in hacking Roxxon’s security systems just as he nimbly leapt onto a dumpster which gave him enough boost to reach one of the open windows on the first floor that Tony has assured him was currently unoccupied. Landing with a soft thud, he gave the room a perfunctory glance to check whether it has anything that might be of use. “ _Fucking hell, Scotty… Are you a cat in your past life?!”_ Thankfully this time, Tony was able to voice out his incredulity in a modulated tone since he apparently can’t last keeping quiet for more than fifteen minutes. “ _Alright,_ _once you exit that room, head east. That’ll be the tricky part and will be where I’d really need your expertise. Already cleared outside, so chop chop!_ ”

At this, Scott really couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Tony’s antics - wondering how he’d even become this close to the person he’d once consider his boss (not that there’s a lot of difference given that the twerp was still bossing him around). “Yes, your highness.” He deadpanned in the snittiest manner he could ever manage. “Opposite the lab… right?” he verified, trying to recall the map they’d run over for their plan. The armory was situated smack dab in the middle of what just might possibly be the most populated area of the facility. “Shit.” He muttered, finally realizing the implications of what Tony had just said. “We might need to calibrate on what you consider tricky and damn near fucking impossible, you maniac.” He gritted out, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. “You better pray that their scientists aren’t insomniacs like you, you crazy motherfucker-”

Tony feigned an offended gasp. “ _I won’t ever disrespect your mother that way, you know that!_ ”

Scott massaged the bridge of his nose in utter exasperation. “Okay, just… let’s focus here, alright? I trust that you and P.L.A.T.O will have my back in case – God forbid, shit hits the fan or something.” The genius only grunted his assent whereas in contrast his AI courteously replied with all the characteristics of an extremely dedicated personal assistant. “Okay… well, here goes nothing.” he mumbled before opening the door slowly, peeking around before finally heading towards the direction of the armory. There’d been a distinct lack of personnel so far and he only hoped P.L.A.T.O and Tony would be able to ensure it stayed that way at least until he reached the next problematic stage of their plan. Scott had already traversed quite a distance from the room he had left and it was fast becoming eerie how there was a glaring lack of personnel now that Scott had come to notice it. “Tony, please tell me you did something to draw people away and this is not a thing people would most likely refer to as the ‘calm before the storm’.”

Tony let out a thoughtful hum that successfully managed to scare the hell out of Scott, before muttering, “ _Just a few steps more, babe._ ” From afar, Scott decidedly tried not to think that he was hearing several heavy footfalls headed towards his direction. He’d just decidedly tried to regulate his breathing when he’d rounded up the corner heading to the armory when he heard Tony saying, “ _Okay… don’t panic! When I tell you to run, fucking do it-_ “

Scott’s eyes widened in horror, already feeling the burrito he’d eaten a few hours prior threatening to come back out. “What?!” he hissed.

“ ** _RUN!_** ”

Without thinking any further, Scott let his legs take him towards the room that Tony indicated – the door automatically opening from where Tony was remotely controlling it. He’d just narrowly missed a bullet as he slipped behind the solid doors, whipping a gun out and frantically checking for hidden enemies and possible escape routes. “That wasn’t part of your plan, was it?” he managed to choke out the question after he was done coughing the entirety of his lungs.

“ _Nothing wrong with improvisation, Scotty_.” Hearing this, Scott was unable to hold back the affronted noise that could have been the start of an expletive or the beginnings of a very ugly crying session (he wasn’t quite sure anymore). “ _You can have your tantrums later, snookum._ ” Tony tried to reassure him in a soothing tone. “ _Now, come along and try to locate that secret button which will take us to our prize._ ”

“You’re batshit crazy.” Scott mumbled grumpily, looking around and feeling for hidden buttons behind the shelves and bookcases, even underneath the carpeting and loose floorboards. From the other side of the door, he could hear the people running around as if in panic - an odd thing considering they should have been focusing on breaking down the door of the room Scott was in. “Tony…” he started to say, drawing out the syllables to make sure he’s communicated his suspicions and outright disapproval of any shenanigan the genius thought to pull. “What the fuck’s going on outside?”

“ _Just carry on Scotty. Daddy’s got you.”_ Was Tony’s only reply – which ew… that went beyond all levels of wrong right there. “Nope. If we’re ever going to remain friends after this, you better stop it with the Daddy thing. That’s just…no.” Scott was vigorously shaking his head to dispel the nasty thought when he felt something raised bumping at his fingertips. “Aha!” he exclaimed triumphantly as he pressed hard onto the button underneath the tacky dragon paperweight on top of the mahogany table. “Can’t they get any duller? It’s like they’ve gotten the idea out of some textbook for villains or something.” He clucked his teeth in disappointment just as a soft click sounded from his left. The bookcase has dislodged itself from the wall and slid just enough to reveal a dark passageway. “Jesus! This is just… I don’t even know whether to be impressed or to laugh my ass off. It’s like I’m in a really bad spy movie or something.”

Tony promptly replied with a seemingly distracted hum of acknowledgement. “ _Hmmm… yep, of course. That’s great Scotty._ ” Hearing that, Scott literally lost his next set of sassy comments as he was suddenly hit by a foreboding feeling that they’re in terribly deep shit. He was just about to voice out his concern when Tony spoke over him in a rush. “ _Hush, Lang! I can feel your disapproval all the way over here, geez. No, the shit hasn’t hit the fan and as I’ve said a while ago I’m taking care of things._ ”

Rightfully chastised, Scott could only agree. “Right. Sorry, going down the creepy passageway now.” A waft of cold air breezed past Scott as he began heading down the stairs. “Hope you know that I’m doing my fucking best channeling Indiana Jones here. You better damn appreciate this, Stark.” Bringing up his hands and settling his palms over his chest, he added:  “Also, you should probably work on the insulation of this suit Tony. My nips are getting a little perky ‘cause it’s more than a little chilly down here.” Looking around in the dank, dim room he’d reached at the bottom of the stairs, Scott really couldn’t help but cringe at what he saw. “Christ on a… what the hell?! It’s like a hoarder’s fucking paradise in here! I feel like I’m going to develop OCD just by standing in here. Are you sure this is supposed to be an armory?! There are like stacks of moldy paper and- oh, you can blow this joint up alright. One hundred percent positive these are firearms that has got your name all over it.”

“ _I fucking knew it!_ ” Tony exclaimed. “ _God this makes it- what? Shit! I can’t believe I already lost count of how many shady geezers Obie’s been dealing with behind my back. Fuck, I’ll do more than just blow the whole area up… I’ll make damn sure that everything will burn. This’ll be a purge! I’ll wipe them all out, I’ll even start right n-_ “

“Tony, wait! Of all things good and holy, don’t do it!” Scott’s panicked plea effectively put a stop to Tony’s angry tirade. “They’ve got a live one in here!” Scott explained, peering over the mostly fogged up glass of the cryostasis chamber and noting the slight glimpse of steel he’d seen from the mystery guy’s side. “Well, you can say alive’s the operative word here. He’s in deep sleep and frozen like a human-popsicle, I vote for takin’ him back home with us.”

“ _You’re kidding._ ” Tony deadpanned.

“Stop being a dick. You’re the one who says zeros need to stick together, right?” Scott snarked back, rummaging through the files scattered on the table beside the cryochamber and proceeding to read it. He couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping as he screamed internally in horror at what he’d found. “Fuck! Shit! Fuckitty fuck! Tony, listen to me. God! You’ve got to help me get this man out of here. Shit! This is fucking big, I swear to you. You would absolutely feel like the worst scum on earth if you leave this guy behind to be blown up to smithereens.”

“Well then, clench up Scotty. The armor’s coming to you in 4…3…2-“ A loud crash startled Scott as the suit came through the reinforced walls of the facility – smashing it like it’s nothing, just as the whole room was washed up in red and somewhere outside from where the Iron Man burst into, the alarm blared all throughout the facility. “Holy Fu—Tony! How-?”

“ _I’m still in New York. That’s the spare suit I’ve placed as your back up._ ”

Scott openly gaped at Tony’s obra maestra, his baby. His fucking genius at work. “Are you planning to carry us back to New York?!”

“ _No…oooo? You’re going to wear it. It’s temporarily keyed into you._ ”

He could feel himself practically drooling at the thought. “No shit.”

“ _Make no mistake. It’s only for temporary use, Lang. I’ll probably have to sanitize it after this since you probably have cooties or something._ ” Tony grumbled half-heartedly, the same time as the suit calibrated to accommodate Scott. In a relatively smooth process, every part of the Iron Man armor began flying towards him attaching securely before fully enclosing Scott inside. “ _Anyway, who did you even find to cause Plan C to come to fruition?_ ”

Scott groaned.

Note to self: Flying out carrying an entire cryochamber’s really not the type of thing to do if one was attempting to execute a successful mission that highly relied on stealth. From below him, some of the security staff abandoned their responsibilities to assist with the evacuation in order to start shooting at Scott. Bullets ricocheted everywhere, hitting at least a few of the men doing the shooting. What Scott didn’t really expect was the sudden small explosion which prompted the remaining staff to cease their pursuit of Scott and flee for their lives.

“ _You’re kinda leaving me hanging here, Lang._ ”

Scott cleared his throat and stalled. “Uh, Tones? Am I to leave King in the middle of a desert?”

“ _Don’t worry too much, P.L.A.T.O will take care of it. So, spill._ ”

“Tony… we’ve bagged ourselves a Winter Soldier.”

 

Somewhere from behind, loud explosions signaled the destruction of one of Tony’s enemies… not knowing that in doing so he’d just waged war with something much bigger.


	3. Interlude: Five Days Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Hope everyone enjoys this fill-in that would explain what Tony was oversharing about in the last chapter. It's mostly inspired by this musical/movie that I've made a tradition to watch every December so if you can see some similarities then let me give you a strong and very passionate hug because it's nice to see another fan or just someone who has watched it enough to spot the nuances in this fic. Thank you once again for reading and waiting patiently, for the kudos, the comments and the bookmarks - you all are wonderful. May you all have a happy new year!
> 
> P.S. I had originally intended this to be a drabble or even a ficlet but I got sucked into their dialogue and just couldn't stop. Do enjoy the fluff and hopefully next time I'd get to do one for the other pairings I've listed in the tags.

It was through sheer bad luck that they’d come to meet – a chilly December night just along Avenue B when Steve was attempting to distract himself by working on three things at once: sorting out all the information that S.H.I.E.L.D had bombarded him with in his head, exploring this era’s version of New York, and working off some excess energy by running to where his feet would take him. Suffice to say, as he wound through unfamiliar streets and alleys, that Steve wasn’t in an entirely agreeable mood and would very much rather be left alone with his thoughts for once (he’d already nearly resorted to threatening S.H.I.E.L.D agents with bodily harm after they’d tried to insist accompanying him on a night he was looking forward to spending alone). For the past week, soaking up the sights and sounds of New York had come to be a soothing balm over the gaping wound that was his reality: the wretched feeling of missing ghosts and being immensely out of place. He’d come to love visiting places which reminded him of his old New York as it helped him pretend that nothing much has changed, with its small shops filled with smiling faces of-

“-otherfucker… of all things to forget! This is great. Just great! **HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESUS**!” The ruckus that came from a dark-haired man, who appeared to be in his early forties, fidgeting right in front of what appears to be a barbershop immediately caught Steve’s attention. The quaint picture that the shop painted, nestled as it was snugly in between a laundromat and a small bakery, was somewhat marred by the unusual sight of an obviously frustrated man who certainly could put a sailor to shame what with the disturbing amount of cuss words he’d been spouting off as he stood there staring at a bunch of keys he was holding like it personally offended him.

Despite Steve’s initial plans to spend the night in peace (and ideally without any human contact at all), there was just something about the whole scene, like an itch that needed to be scratched, that made him want to help - regardless of the fact that Steve was quite hesitant to do so since the man really needed to be taught some good manners what with his deplorable conduct in a public area where young impressionable kids could easily hear him speak such awful things. With his mind made up, he looked at both sides of the road for any incoming vehicle before carefully crossing the pavement. He strode towards the man with purpose, stopping short when he was standing just a few steps behind him opening with a friendly question, “What’d you forget?”

The man predictably startled, whipping around quickly with a fist poised to punch the daylights out of Steve - who in turn was able to deflect it and pin it against the man’s back, effectively rendering him immobile. “Whoa! Easy. No need to break your arm. I came over to help.” Steve attempted to explain in order to calm the man down, however it proved to be ineffective as the wiry man continued to struggle from his hold muttering all the while about ‘ _the injustice of men built like a fucking wall_ ’ under his breath. The man had even tried to sneak in a few cheap shots with the heel of his shoe as he attempted to kick Steve’s shin from a difficult angle but as soon as he realized that Steve could easily dodge them, he promptly gave up.

“If you’re after money, mister then you’re shit out of luck. My wallet’s inside the shop.” The man informed him irritably, resuming his struggles. “Ugh! Look, as much as I love being harassed by your biceps – they’re annoyingly perfect by the way, I’m beginning to have a hard time breathing and would be very much grateful if you let me go…” And as if he could feel Steve’s suspicious gaze he quickly added, “-and no, I’m not going to start throwing punches at you again if you do, I know my limits.” The guy then paused as if to catch his breath before continuing, “Unless this is your way of soliciting for a quick blowie in the back alley, which by the way I’m not really against to be quite honest since you feel like you’re an awesome lay… though I might have to charge since I’m not **THAT** easy.”

At that statement, Steve immediately let go – eyes widening comically as he stared at the man agape once he caught on. “Y-you’re… ah, um… a-“. He spluttered and cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment as he struggled to continue with his sentence. His reaction seemed to earn a cocky smirk from the guy who was now leaning against the shop door. “Don’t kill yourself, buster. Here, say it with me: Hoo-ker.” The man drawled out enunciating slowly as if to make a point. The guy had his curious gaze on Steve - eyes illuminated by the dim light of the nearby streetlamp making it gleam the color of rich amber that somehow reminded Steve of fine whiskey (something he was sure he'd once find very easy to get drunk on). Those same eyes regarded him with amusement and a hint of wonderment as the man continued to watch Steve with much interest before exclaiming, “Hold up… are you blushing?!” The guy took a step closer and tried to peer at Steve, an impish smile breaking out as Steve turned his head to the side. “Oh my God! You’re just adorable.” The guy was grinning widely now, an infectious open smile that seemingly echoed a memory of a different lifetime – a face that he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen or come to know.

Steve must have been staring for far too long that the happy expression soon morphed into concern, the man stepping even closer giving Steve the perfect vantage point to look at that expressive face projecting worry (of all things!) for someone he’d just met. “You okay, big guy?” The man asked - surprisingly timid, as if somewhat afraid that he’d offended Steve. “You sorta spaced out for a bit.” He pointed out all the while placing his hands gently on both of Steve’s shoulders as if to steady him. “I’m not really a hooker by the way, I’m a barber. I own this shop.” He nodded to the building behind him, a neon sign hung by the door with a loopy script spelling out: Four Aces.

“I’m… I’m fine. Thank you. Might have been a little winded by the run.” Steve stammered, chuckling self-consciously as the other man raised an eyebrow apparently dubious and clearly calling him out on his lie. Once again he was struck by how strangely familiar this whole situation is… how at ease the other guy was making him feel at this moment, like they’d known each other for so long. “Seriously muscles, what are you staring at?” The playful cadence was back, hiding very well within it a note of exasperation that wasn’t at all surprising given that Steve hasn’t really been contributing to their conversation.

Steve gave the man a sheepish smile. “Would you believe me if I said it was your hair? I mean, it looks really swell in the moonlight.” The guy offered a dead look in response before following with, “How the heck are you real?!” He threw his hands up animatedly, looking up above the heavens as if it held the answer to his question. “Who even uses ‘swell’ in a sentence anymore?” He brought his hand to his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, then shot Steve a playful glare. “No really, what were you staring at? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, it’s… nothing. There’s nothing wrong with your face, it’s just your smile…” Steve could already feel himself falling into a pensive mood upon realizing who he was really seeing the longer he stood there talking to the stranger, that the smile he directed at the man was half-hearted at best. “-it reminds me of someone.”

The guy gave out a disbelieving snort “Pft. Here I was worrying… of course there’s nothing wrong with my face! That’s not really news to me though, it often happens that I always remind people of - who is he?” The man's lips quirked upwards, obviously ribbing him in good humor. Steve hated to be that guy to rain on this guy’s parade however, his mouth seemed to spontaneously grow a mind of its own. “He died. His name was Bu… James. His name was James.” As soon as the admission left his lips, Steve immediately regretted it as the guy quickly clammed up and the most awkward silence fell upon the two of them.

“Umm…” The guy - obviously uneasy with their earlier exchange, was the first to break the silence. His fidgeting was back on full effect as he somberly uttered, “I’m really sorry ‘bout your friend.” His tone was carefully neutral, as if afraid to overstep bounds and make Steve any more uncomfortable than he already was. “I’d totally offer you a drink upstairs if you’d like to talk about it but well,” he dangled the set of keys that he had been troubling over, in front of Steve’s face. “My shop assistant thought it funny to mix the labels ‘cause he’s a little shit so now I can’t get in. Oh, and I’d like to take this time to clarify that I hypothetically invited you in not because I have any designs to molest you or kill you but because I really ought to know when to keep my mouth shut and it’s maybe an apology for… the thing.”

Relieved and ultimately thankful for the smooth departure from the earlier topic of their conversation, Steve answered: “Well, it’s sorta hard to think of you as either. You look kinda young… nineteen maybe?” Steve grinned cheekily at the man - attempting to fish a reaction of some sort that seemed to work perfectly, judging by the returning quirk of his lips that soon enough turned into a bright smile.

“Does that line actually work or are people just suckers for pretty young things like you?” The guy asked, pretending to scoff and roll his eyes as he took Steve’s hand and dropped the keys on his upturned palm. “Here. Help me look, will ya?” The sudden brief contact and the intimacy that the small act had allowed, caught Steve by surprise and instead of catching the keys he let it slip and slide down to the ground instead. “Oh—mmphf! I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, already on the way to getting down on his knees if not for the man beating him to it. “Hey, no wait! What are you doing? Don’t…” The words choked and died down his throat as he stared at the stranger now down on all fours - the scene somehow distorting into an impossible reality in his head as he watched the man all limber and effortless grace moving…owning the ground he was on like he’d meant to be on it and not at all as a result of Steve’s uncoordinated actions. It was captivating.

 

…Or very much likely a product of an overactive imagination still believing in that ol’ Christmas spell.

 

“I got it, don’t worry.” The man waved dismissively - crawling on the cold, wet pavement with no reservations as he patted around the area for his keys. “It’s no sweat off my back, Sir Clumsy-lot.” He teased, turning his head back to look at Steve and noticing that he was staring again. “You’re doing that staring thing again.” He deadpanned, eyebrow raised as if daring Steve to deny it. “I won’t blame you though, hon… they do say I’ve the best ass around here.” The man was now smiling coyly at him. “Is it true?”

 

Steve did a double-take.

 

…did he hear that correctly?

 

Feeling his face heat up in embarrassment - it took him a moment of spluttering to form a good response, “What? I mean - I… you do… have a nice-” He swallowed thickly, before pointing out. “I mean, I did say you look familiar.”

The man burst into bubbling laughter – the sound rich and contagious prompting a small chuckle from Steve. “Oh God. How are you even real?!” The man’s eyes were twinkling in mirth as he slowly got up brushing himself off, keys in hand. “Yeah, sure Romeo. Like your dead boyfriend.” He commented flippantly, which earned him a disapproving stare from Steve. “Whoops.” The man winced. “I’m guessing that’s too soon.”

Choosing to ignore the comment and not one to stand by idly, Steve then rushed forward to help the man up – his hand reaching out which the man promptly took in his.

“Cold hands.” Steve whispered.

“Well, yours are apparently way too big that it let those keys slip.” The man countered – that mischievous, daring smile ever present on his face. “As a kid, I used to think my dad’s hands were big too.” The man mentioned in an all-too nonchalant voice. “Well, I guess it makes sense since he’s quite a big man.” He finished, the strange wistful (almost sad) look was easily tamped down and replaced by a cheery grin. “My, my… look at us!” The man gestured to how they were standing so close, “All ready to do a waltz, if I may say so myself. Wanna dance?” He then pulled Steve closer, their chests almost touching (barring the minimal height difference), and his fingers sliding – slowly intertwining with Steve’s.

Charmed and amused with the guy’s antics, Steve replied. “With you?”

“Oh, no dearie. With my father.” The man rolled his eyes drawing out an earnest laugh out of Steve. Once he was able to catch his breath, he managed to huff out an introduction, “I’m Rogers. Steve Rogers.”

“Well, Rogers Steve Rogers…” The man grinned at him. “Call me Tony.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Before I burn in the fiery depths of hell for not following any concrete timeline (from both the movie-verse and comics-verse), the story is set in an entirely different universe with certain elements from the movies ( _apologies in advance, it's most definitely tweaked by me_ ), Ultimate comics: Avengers and Earth-616 all shoved in to make a weird hodgepodge that's ( _mostly_ ) forced to marry a Barbershop AU.
> 
> As there's nobody to edit my mistakes for me (or to point out any inconsistencies in the story and quite possibly to harangue me to update), I trust whoever's reading this right now to be brutally honest (yet incredibly courteous) with feedback and to be as terribly patient as possible since I am the epitome of sucktitude when it comes to keeping up a schedule of updates.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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